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"She flung her white arms around him—Thou art an That this poor heart can cling to."
I Codld have stemmed misfortune's tide,
And borne the rich one's sneer,
Nor shed a single tear.
From life's full quiver thrown,
I should not be " alone."
I could—I think 1 could have brooked,
E'en for a time, that thou
With less of love than now;
The sweet hope still my own,
On earth, not been alone."
But thus to see, from day to day,
And watch thy life-sands waste away,
To meet thy smiles of tenderness,
And catch the feeble tone
And feel, I'll be " alone;"
To mark thy strength each hour decay,
And yet thy hopes grow stronger,
"Earth may not claim thee longer;"
Must break when thou art gone;
I could not live " alone!"
SONG OF THE ZEPHYR SPIRIT.
I Come from the deeps where the mermaiden twines,
In her bowers of amber, her garlands of shells: Where the sands are of gold, and of crystal the vines,
And the spirit of gladness unchangingly dwells— I breathed on the harp at Zephyrus' cave,
And the strain, as it rose, glided upward with me; No dwelling on earth, but my home is the wave,
And my couch is the coral grove, deep in the sea.
Thou hast dreamed—hast thou not ?—of those wave-
And the soul lives in dreams of a lasting delight. Thou wouldst win what thy dreams have long brought to thy view, Thou wouldst dwell with the moon that now beams upon thee; To the fears of the earth—to its cares, bid adieu, Come, rest in the coral grove, deep in the sea.
With my breath I will fan thee when noonday is nigh,
The gentlest of mermaids will lull thee to sleep; She will watch by thy couch when the sun passes by,
Nor fly when the moon leaves her home in the deep. Each joy thou hast sighed for, shall there be thine own,
The sorrows of time from thy slumbers shall flee; Then come with me—win all the pleasures I've shown,
Come, rest in the coral grove, deep in the sea.
SEE IN DISTANCE MILDLY GLEAMING.
BY JAMES H. CLAIBORNE.
See in distance mildly gleaming,
Summer's parting ray,
Both are flowers of May!
He has left a couch of sorrow
Once again to say,
Fairest flower of May?
Oft he sued and oft was slighted,
Praying day by day,
By that flower of May.
That flower faded—she's alone,
He is far away;
Fickle flower of May.
AROUSE YE, GAY COMRADES.
BY THOMAS POWER.
Aeouse ye, gay comrades, the waves sparkle bright,
Then gather, gay comrades, the winds gently blow,
GOD BLESS AMERICA
BY ROBERT M. BIRD.
God bless the land that gave us birth!
No prayer but this know we,—
The happy and the free.
The splendour of the day,